Breakfast in Bread
by scriptora
Summary: "Peeta, please go. Find someone worthy of you." "Don't you dare make me lose you, too. That is something I could never forgive you for." The story of Katniss and Peeta's life after the war. They are both injured people, mentally and physically, but are able to survive by means of undying love. Can Peeta and Katniss handle the life they have fought so hard for?
1. Chapter 1 - A Mess

**_Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this first chapter. It's fairly short, but I feel like it encompasses Katniss's guilt and unsteady mental state well, along with Peeta's love for her even in her weak moments. All Hunger Games characters/ideas belongs to Suzanne Collins. Thank you for your interest!_**

His arm slides against the wood of the table, landing close to mine. I lift my hand out from under the table and grasp his, offering a slight smile. I have an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. This is a day like any other day, except for one small detail. Peeta and I are getting married today. I hold his hand tightly, afraid that if I let go, I will pass out.

I'm nervous not because I'm unsure of my decision to marry him, but because today my love for him becomes legally official. Today is the day I go against the words I said to Gale, the ones that told him I never wanted to marry anyone, never wanted to have children. At least I will stay true to that last part. Besides, since when have I been a trustworthy individual? I'm fairly sure anyone's trust in my actions and words diminished the second my arrow struck Coin in the heart.

That's when I make my decision.

I let go of Peeta's hand, I brush my fallen hair back behind my ears, and I feel my expression turn to stone.

He looks at me, concerned. He is worried about me, as he seems to always be. The look on my face does not change, and I don't dare utter a word to his pleading eyes. Instead, I pick up my plate that holds the barely touched breakfast that Peeta made this morning, and stand up. The walk to the sink seems to take hours, and those hours feel even more tedious when I hear the sound of metal make contact with the wooden floor. I know that sound well, and I always will. It is the noise of Peeta's prosthetic leg.

The fact that I am hearing it right now is enough to almost make me shatter, but I know that has to wait.

If I had done better, if I had been with him and made sure he was okay during the games, he wouldn't be missing a leg. If I had made Peeta kill me, if I had eaten the berries without him knowing, he would've won. The war would not have happened. He would've found a girl who could cater to his every need, who could love and support him the way he deserves. His family wouldn't be dead. Prim wouldn't be dead. Prim would be with me, but she's dead. They're all dead because of me. There is no way I deserve Peeta's love after what I have done.

I will do everything in my power to make sure Peeta ends up with someone worth more than a wretched monster such as myself.

His hands find my shoulders and my body goes stiff. "Katniss?"

When the last syllable of my name leaves his lips, the plate escapes my grip. That name belongs to someone too horrible to be cared about by someone as good and kind as Peeta Mellark. It is a name that should never have a place in his mind, much less have a place on his tongue. It has no place, it belongs no where, and should only be uttered as an accusation, nothing else.

The plate hits the floor and shatters into hundreds of pieces, just as I will once I get out of this house.

I must get out of this house.

When he says my name again, his hands still resting upon my shoulders, I take a deep breath and make a beeline for the door.

Once the soles of my feet hit the wet gravel surrounding every house in the Victors' Village, I run as fast as I possibly can. I run to the woods, tromping down every bit of foliage beneath me with my quiet pounding footsteps. I run to a dead tree, one that has been killed in the fire, and plant myself against it. I fall to my knees and sob as silently as I can manage. My heart is racing as the tears slide down my cheeks and hit the bed of pine needles I'm sitting on.

After several minutes, I take a heavy breath and stand, spotting a large patch of blackberries about twenty feet away. I am reminded of the days I spent with my father in the meadow, tromping around, carefree and content with life. I would occasionally scratch myself on a thorny blackberry vine, and soon they became known to me as a quite painful nuisance.

I step out of my pants, leaving my legs completely bare, and walk towards them. I deserve any pain that I can inflict on myself, so I walk closer. Closer. Closer, until the thorns are breaking through the skin on the bottoms of my feet. I wince, more tears fall, and continue. I keep repeating three words in my head. _I deserve this._ _I deserve this. I deserve this._

The patch doesn't end. Instead, it grows higher, engulfing more of my body, thorns sticking themselves into the outer layer of my skin. My shirt starts to catch, the patch just above my hips now. I slip out of that, too, and walk deeper. The pain is searing throughout my body, and I grimace. I am a mess. But I deserve this. If I had any sort of weapon with me, I would simply kill myself. Instead, I let the hundreds of little spears poke me, stick me, and slice me. No one will find me here. I will stay here until I starve, until I have endured the torture I so deserve. I'm doing this for Rue, I am doing this for Prim, I am doing this for Peeta, his family, and anyone who has been killed during this horrid fight between myself and the Capitol. Their deaths are my fault, and I will suffer dearly for it. After all, my life at this point is worth nothing.

I am fully aware that today I was supposed to become the wife of Peeta Mellark. I was supposed to be stepping into a wedding dress, not into a gnarly patch of thorns. I am supposed to be smiling and laughing, not grimacing and sobbing. What a coward I am. Me, a woman who is to blame for the death of hundreds, expected happiness and a normal life. What a withering coward I am.

I grab two handfuls of vines and squeeze, the thorns puncturing holes in the cold palms of my hands. I open my hand, and notice that I am still attached the the plants. So I move deeper into the blackberries, letting the thorns rip themselves out of my flesh. Finally, the vines reach a height that swallows me almost completely, and I sink to the ground, wishing that the plants would do more damage than they are to my blood covered body. With my head in my hands, I sob. Ugly wet sobs rack my body until I sprawl out on the cold ground due to sheer exhaustion. My last thought before I slip into unconsciousness is to wonder whether the ground is wet from rain or if I am simply lying in a bed of my own blood and tears.

When I awake that night from a nightmare, I find myself sweating and screaming Peeta's name. The nightmare leaves just as fast as it came, and I can't remember what happened. All I am is worried. Worried that someone has heard me, and will care to come to me. To rescue the one who killed so many.

Soon enough, my worries play out before me when I hear my name being shouted from afar.

Peeta. It's Peeta. Who else could it be? When I attempt to sit up and get away, to hide from the man who so mistakenly loves me, I realize how much pain I have caused myself, and I smile. My skin is smeared in blood and sweat, and I am sore from head to toe. Every time I touch a part of my body, the thorns that are stuck dig deeper into both my damaged and undamaged flesh, leaving me miserable and thankful. I stand up, with a pleased but pained look on my face, and run. I run wherever my feet take me, and when the vines get thick, I crawl and rip them out of the way with my hands. I surge of new energy shoots through me every time I think I've hit my breaking point, as I know I deserve this misery. I only stop when I realize I left my pants at the edge of the patch. He will find me, no matter how far I run. The only choices I have are to run in, or to run out. He will find me either way.

So I fall to my knees again, and wrap my arms around my knees, turned away from the direction I entered from. I rock back and forth, my eyes wide, breathing in and out. I have hit a low point, and I won't be able to get out of it, I am sure. I won't be able to let Peeta love me again, at least not more than I can help. He needs someone better than me, but he won't ever realize it. I know I need him, I know I am madly in love with him, but that does not matter. I am sure many of my victims knew love, but I was selfish enough to tear that away from them, along with their lives. I do not deserve love.

The moment I hear a breath of what I assume is relief for the wrong reasons, I jump and scream. I was so caught up in my thoughts that not even Peeta's careless footsteps could enter my eardrums. I am going insane.

"Katniss, what happened to you? Who hurt you?" He says, panicked. His rushes over to me and kneels down in front of me.

I stare at him and keep rocking. My eyes are wide, but I can feel tears falling from them now.

"Katniss, what is wrong? Say something, please."

I realize he can't see what a mess I am in this darkness. He switched his flashlight off about ten feet away, and ran the rest of the way in darkness. He turns his flashlight on again, unsure of what to do with me when I don't answer him. He points it at my legs, not directly at my face so that he doesn't hurt my eyes, and his expression changes as soon as he does. He's shocked, and then angry. His pupils dilate to such an extent that they seem to encompass his bright blue irises.

"Peeta?" I say, ready for him to kill me. I've only seen this look so severe in his eyes once before. I saw it when his face was inches from mine, and his hands were choking the life out of me. That is something I would welcome from him at this moment.

His pupils get smaller, then bigger, then smaller. They fluctuate this way several times while staring fiercely into mine before Peeta turns around, his fists clenched, and crouches down. He's trying his best not to harm me. I'm not okay with that. This is my chance to be killed by someone who has every right to do so.

"Peeta, come here." I say, strongly.

"Mutt..." I hear him whisper under his breath.

"That's right. Kill me. I'm a mutt, I'm a monster. Kill me, Peeta." I tell him, trying to let every word roll off of my tongue clearly, with an almost taunting tone.

"No, no, no..."

"Yes! Peeta, kill me, please! You deserve so much more than a monster like me." My strength is slipping. This is hurting him. Even when I try to help him, I hurt him.

He cups his face in his hands and breaths in and out. He's coming out of it, it didn't work. "Did I hurt you?" He asks, meekly.

I sigh in defeat. "Peeta, please kill me. Please, I have hurt so many people. Just do it, I beg you."

He runs over to me so quickly that I almost think the flashback isn't over, and puts his hands on both of my cheeks.

"Don't do this. Don't let go of yourself, Katniss." Only now, with his face this close to mine, do I notice the tears spilling out of his strained eyes.

"You can't love me. Peeta, please go. Find someone worthy of you."

"I already have." His face stiffens, slightly. "Don't you dare make me lose you, too. That is something I could never forgive you for."

I don't respond. I breathe in through my teeth and saliva, tears threatening my eyes. I am in pain, and I am sure I am not doing a great job of hiding it. I look down in defeat, and launch my body onto his. He smells of something sweet, muffins or something of the like. I'm too tired to tell. I cry and cry, and he simply holds me, rocking me back and forth. He's crying too, and it hurts me so terribly to know that I am the sole cause of his tears.

Whether or not I think he deserves to be burdened with my existence, I am the only person left in this world who he loves. Out of all the selfish acts I've committed, taking my life would be the most selfish. Peeta needs me, and for as long as I am alive, I will need him. I will live for him. I will live for Peeta in hopes that I can make something up to him, repay him at least a little. If that is what he desires, then so be it. He is so unfortunate to be in love with me. Life has not been fair to him.

I slip into unconsciousness with his arms around me, the result of pain and exhaustion.

If living is what I have to do to keep the look of hope and happiness thriving in his beautiful eyes, then I will do it. With his arms around me, I can and will do it.

Gladly.


	2. Chapter 2 - Revival

**Author's Note: I am sorry for the wait. I hope you are pleased with this chapter, the next is already in the workings. By the way, I do have reasons for the slightly odd title. This story begins with Peeta and Katniss eating breakfast, and Panem translates to bread in Latin. I know Breakfast in Bread is cheesy, but it's also easy to remember. That's my explanation! Any reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.**

 **All material related to the Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

 _As if a fire is ignited inside of me, my entire body awakens with a kind of energy I am not familiar with. My eyelids shoot open, and leave my gray eyes to attempt to focus on the world around me. Everything is white, extremely white. Almost too white to be real. It is like I can feel the sensation of my pupils growing and shrinking rapidly, trying to find something with enough substance to be seen._

 _Finally, as if a switch has been flipped, I see everything. I hear everything. The monitors beeping at a steady pace around me, the bright lights above, the stark white walls at every direction. Next, I see him. I see his eyes, his striking blue eyes that look surprised and ecstatic at the same time. They are hopeful, always hopeful._

 _I am dazed, but do not have to try very hard to grasp the memory of the previous night. The last thing I remember is the warmth from Peeta's embrace, the warmth that absorbed every bit of pain and distress that was lingering in my body. He's so good to me._

 _Too good._

 _He is happy right now because the love of his life has returned from darkness and has allowed him to save her life, once again. He doesn't deserve me. He does not deserve to acknowledge the retched existence of Katniss Everdeen._

 _I sit up in my bed, and hold my palm to my forehead to steady the spinning surroundings. Soon enough, I am able to stand and manage to stay upright. Peeta does not stand, he simply sits in a chair beside the hospital bed with a content look on his face. I feel like I am floating, like my feet are not in contact with the freezing tile beneath me._

 _I look at the window on the other side of the room and take a deep breath. I have to do this, I have to rid myself from his life. It will make him happy, it is better. For both of us. This claim is repeated in each airy step I take towards the window._

 _The moment I reach it, Peeta appears in front of me. His panicked expression resembles the one warning me of the tracker jackers in the arena so strongly that I freeze for a moment. It is identical, I am sure of it. What is happening? He raises his hands up, and then seems to be shaking my shoulders, yet I feel nothing. I don't feel that familiar radiating warmth penetrate my flesh through my hospital gown. My body does not even seem to be moving._

 _Then, my hand flies to his cold but heaving chest, and I feel his heart beating violently beneath my palm. I rip my hand off of him before I am able to change my mind and turn around, my numb hand clamping onto the window sill in front of me. My arm raises almost mechanically, allowing the outdoor air to flood into the stagnant room. Peeta is now sobbing behind me, screaming my name, and my entire body is frozen._

 _Not for long._

 _Now I am falling, plummeting to my death._

 _I count the seconds, and wait for the world to vanish. I wait for my existence to abandon the world. I am waiting, anticipating the burden of myself to fall off of Peeta's shoulders. I hear his voice calling my name, echoing in the air, becoming farther and farther away._

 _Suddenly, all I want is for him to be happy. By falling to my death, I am granting him that happiness. As I smile to myself, and begin to laugh, the world turns black._

 _I am dead, and the world is riant yet again._

"Katniss?" A voice enters my eardrums, one rich with love and alleviation. How am I hearing his voice? What is happening?

I realize my eyes are open, but I cannot hardly make out anything. I see a figure hovering over me, some dull colors, but nothing distinct. I am genuinely confused.

"Katniss?" The well-known voice continues, "Haymitch, come here. I don't know what is happening."

At the sound of his voice, I realize it was a nightmare. Or maybe it was a dream.

"Move over, boy. You're probably smothering her."

The figures shuffle, and a new, pungent smell accompanies my senses. Eventually, the alcoholic breath makes me gag. My vision begins to recover, and I cover my mouth and nose with my hand to block the stench. Haymitch cackles to himself and mutters something about how he once told me that drinking came in handy every now and then.

As the world comes rushing back to me, I slowly sit upright and wince at the pain surfacing on my skin. I glance around me, my eyes wide and dry, trying to tame the muddiness of my mind at least partially. I take deep breaths and, while everything seems to move slowly, I am aware of Peeta taking Haymitch's spot in front of me. He places his rock-steady hands on my cheeks, and looks at me with tears in his eyes.

I melt at his touch and fall into his chest, trying to gain my composure. I take each shaky breath as it comes, holding in the emotions that want to come spilling out. I cannot fall apart now and risk repeating what happened last night. Right now, I need to be strong solely for Peeta's sake.

"Peeta, I love you," I whisper as he rocks me back and forth.

"I love you so much, Katniss," he breathes.

I inhale his comforting, sweet scent and relish in the feeling of safety that has engulfed me. We stay like that for a long time, Haymitch making his departure after several minutes. Peeta eventually loosens his grip on me and I pull away from him.

"Care to fill me in on what happened after I passed out?" I ask, curiously.

A concerned look appears on his face. "I felt you go limp and, while I was still worried, I was hopeful that you would wake up calmer than you were. I picked you up and carried you to my house, laid you down here," He says, gesturing to the couch. "I ran to Haymitch's house and made him come over, told him that you panicked and hurt yourself."

He takes a deep breath and runs his thumb across the top of my hand. There is no doctor in District Twelve, not even a healer, due to the tedious rebuilding of the district. They have not replaced my mother since the war, leaving everyone to fend for themselves when faced with medical issues.

"We pulled most of the thorns out. You flinched occasionally, but didn't wake up. You're pretty beat up, Katniss. You certainly did some damage. When I found you, I was really worried that you were badly hurt." He's rambling, now. He looks at my eyes, then down at the floor. Then, his eyes meet mine once again. He sighs sadly, and his eyes begin to well up with tears.

"I'm sorry, Peeta. I never wanted to scare you, I was being stupid. I'm sorry," I say, knowing fair well what my true intentions were. The last thing I wanted was for him to find me and try to comfort me. I did not and still do not deserve his unwavering devotion.

"No, that's not what's bothering me. Katniss, I remember what you said to me." A single tear runs down his face.

I stare at him for a moment. What I said? What did I say? It takes me a moment, and then I remember. I asked him to kill me, I took advantage of what harm the Capitol inflicted on him, and I asked him to take my life. I let go of his hands and look to my side, tilting my head downwards.

"You asked me to kill you. Do you understand how dangerous that is? Fortunately, that flashback was minor. The next one might not be, though. Katniss, you can't-" He firmly sets his hands on my shoulders, and I close my eyes and flinch. He looks too much like he did in my dream. His expression is panicked and scared. The grip he has on me, like he's scared I'll disappear if he let's go. It's too similar. The look in his eyes tells me I have hurt him, badly. He softens his touch and looks at me, concerned. "Are you okay?"

I open my eyes and turn my head back to him. "I knew how dangerous it was, and that's exactly why I did it. Peeta, look at yourself!" I pleaded, my eyes beginning to tear up. "All I do is hurt you. Why can't you see that?"

Without hesitance, he kisses me, desperately. When he pulls away, he begins to speak, "I love you. If you were only capable of hurting me, I wouldn't have asked you to marry me. I'm not a moron, Katniss. You saved my life more than once. If it weren't for you, instead of losing a leg, I would have lost my life."

"Wouldn't you rather be dead than live through what I've done to you? Peeta, I killed your family. It's my fault they are dead. I should have just eaten those berries-"

"None of it is your fault. Please, please trust me. You were trying to survive. You have always had two objectives; to survive and ensure the safety of the people you love. If it weren't for President Snow, Rue wouldn't have died. Prim wouldn't be dead. My family would be here. All of this death rests on his shoulders alone, Katniss, not yours."

There's a part of me that believes him. Deep down, I know his words hold truth. I am unable to argue with him, so I stay silent. I don't say a thing, until I realize there are three words I don't tell him near as often as I should.

"I love you." I whisper, and he pulls me into his arms. He holds me tightly, and I do the same to him. We embrace each other, again, before Peeta helps me up to go eat something.

I sip on hot broth and tea until I feel somewhat satisfied. There's a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach as I contemplate my next move. I want to surprise him, to catch him off guard. Who knows what he is thinking after my episode last night. He wanted that wedding so bad, I wanted that wedding so bad, and I blew it because President Snow has nearly managed to ruinme.

I slip out of my seat at the kitchen bar and walk over to Peeta. I kiss him softly, sweetly, and hope that today I can make up for my mistake. One of my many, many mistakes.

My right hand unsteadily grabs the stair railing as I make my way up the stairs. I can do this. I can do this. It's what we both want, and need. We need something special, something to brighten our lives, before it's too late. Before I can't make my way back to sanity. Before this morning's nightmare comes true. Still, somewhere deep inside of me, I feel it's inevitable.

I get to the closet in the back bedroom, the one I have stored all of my clothing from the Capitol in. After the war, I was extremely distraught and only seemed to be getting worse, living in my ginormous house with zero company. In an attempt to make things easier for me, possibly bring me back to the almost-mentally-normal Katniss, Peeta moved everything from my house that he thought would bring back negative emotions into his own house in the Victor's Village. That included the wedding dresses Cinna made for me. Little did he know, my blatant existence reminded me of the death and descruction I had "suffered", because my existence is what caused it all.

It's done now, though. I need to move on, for him.

Those are the thoughts that wind themselves around in my head as I finger through Cinna's beautiful but over the top work that I have hidden in this dark closet. Many of the dresses are covered in gems, lace, extravagant embroidery, and because of this, none of them feel… right. They all seem so out of place in District Twelve, a place where brides are usually married in whatever looks clean and decent at the time.

As I am eyeing a rather over the top ballgown, attire that only belongs in the Capitol, something falls off of a shelf above me and hits me square in the head. I fall to the floor, more out of surprise then anything, and laugh at how un-Katniss that was of me. I suppose I am still weak and uncoordinated from last night.

I look around for the perpetrator, my cheeks heated in embarrassment despite my being alone. As soon as I spot the book, a small gasp slips out of me. I'm not able to ponder the discovery for very long, as I hear Peeta bounding up the steps and hop up as fast as I can. I grab the book, so dear to my heart, and stuff it in the closet, shutting the doors. After completing those actions at the speed of light, I scoot up against a wall, knowing that I will look suspicious no matter what I do. I'm standing in a dark, empty room that I have never entered before. Of course it will look suspicious.

His prosthetic makes quite a racket as Peeta flies down the hallway, looking for me. "Katniss? Where are you?"

"I'm in here. Stop worrying, I'm fine!"

He enters the room and lets out the breath he had been holding, relief and confusion written on his face.

"Are you alright? What are you doing in here?"

I try not to hesitate before speaking, "Just looking. I basically live here already, and it occurred to me while I was up here that I haven't even stepped foot in every room."

He, surprisingly, seems to accept my answer. "Well, what was that noise?"

This time I do hesitate, "I-I tripped. That's all."

"Oh… alright. Be more careful, you've had it rough lately. I'll be downstairs, there are cheese buns in the oven for whenever you are done snooping around my house." He smirks, and I nod.

"Thank you. I'll be down in a little while."

"By the way, you know I don't believe you." He laughs to himself and leaves the room.

I shrug my shoulders and open the closet again, retrieving the book. It's Cinna's, the one he stored his designs in. I flip through the pages, the ones I have already seen, until my eyes fall upon the first page of the section I had previously avoided. I try not to let it happen, but a tear falls out of my eye and onto the picture he had sketched of me. There are the words, the words that I just now realize I need to see to remind myself that there are reasons I'm still hanging on.

 _I'm still betting on you, Girl on Fire._

I flip the page, afraid of looking at it any longer, afraid of the tears that might come if I do. I'm not sure why I am doing this. What is there that I need to see? I was never one for exuberant fashion, surely that isn't what I'm interested in. Maybe I just want to feel the paper between my fingers, knowing that there was a day when Cinna did the same.

And that's when I see it.


End file.
